One Chance: The Machelli Family - Book 1 by Gabrielle Laine

Author:Gabrielle Laine [Laine, Gabrielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

"I'm not going to argue."

Freya's words have been ringing in my head for nearly three hours. And they echo again as I negotiate the little Toyota off the E45 and onto the SS124 sign-posted for Syracuse.

I wish she had argued. I wish she hadn't listened to my moment of idiocy back in that clearing.

It had seemed like a solid plan, at the time.

The idea of having Freya so completely to myself, behind a closed door, and without needing to make room for a gearshift, had been too tempting. And I had let it run away with me.

And I've now had three hours to regret it. Three awkward, painful, and very hard hours.

Biting down on my molars, I shift in my seat again as I indicate the next right-hand turn.

I should have damn well kept her where she was, I decide.

I should have kept her on my lap, the erection that's now a deep and painful hunger in my lap framed between her thighs. Her glorious, naked body rising over me.

God, she'd looked like a fucking queen. A beautiful, sensual… and delicious queen.

Even when she'd first taken off her shirt, bearing those beautiful, rounded breasts and her milky pale skin, she'd been stunning. Her nervousness had been obvious but her refusal to bury her desire behind a shield of shyness had been horrendously sexy.

Who knew courage could be such a turn-on?

I glance over at the passenger seat as we head toward the center of town. An irrational spurt of frustration hits me clean in the chest and then shoots down behind my belt buckle. Whilst I've spent the last few hours in my private little hell, the same cannot be said for my companion.

Freya, in fact, is asleep.

With the sun already set, each street light we pass flickers over Freya's features, turning her pale skin to a gilded yellow and her hair to spun white-gold. She's bundled herself up in that coat of hers, the scarf and chunky collar keeping half her face in shadow. Her eyelashes shoot long, wheeling shadows over her face with each sweeping pass of the lights. Her lips are parted in sleep but I've already spotted them occasionally drawing and pouting together before falling softly open again.

We're only a few minutes from our destination but the urge to swing the car over onto the hard shoulder, reach for Freya and wake her with a kiss so deep it borders on barbaric, is almost too attractive.

I snap my gaze back to the road ahead.

Almost there… I comfort myself.

Almost there and then I can touch her.

Almost there and I can see her truly naked.

At this point, it just feels like a cosmic joke that I have yet to see the woman entirely nude.

And after her confession earlier…

"I want you… I want you as many times as I can have you…"

Just remembering that admission… how she looked sitting over me, how her hair tumbled around her shoulders… How her breasts glowed in the sunshine…

My jeans instantly feel three sizes too small and I have to start breathing shallowly through my nose.

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